An Umbra History
by LilithiaRW
Summary: Rated T for language and probably violence. A series of oneshots to flesh out the backgrounds of various Bayonetta characters. Mostly canon. Chapter 6: The origin of Rodin and the first contract between witch and demon. "You have got to be the most infuriating piece of shit-" Rodin tuned her out. "You gonna sign this contract or what?" He asked. She whacked him with her staff.
1. Rosa, a witch who loved

**I seriously love Bayonetta. If you haven't played the game, drop everything and play it now. Or at least, go on youtube and look up the anime movie Bayonetta: Bloody Fate (which should tell you everything you need to know for this story).**

**Because seriously, who doesn't love a badass supernatural witch kicking divine booty? She's sexay and she knows it be-atch! Lol**

**Anyway, if you are still ready this, **_**here's how this piece works**_**:**

**These are going to be a series of oneshots to flesh out the backgrounds of various Bayonetta characters (ex: Rosa, Balder, Rodin, Jeanne, etc.). I will try to stick to the history given in the game as much as possible, at least for the oneshots that go with canon. Eventually, though, I would like this entire drabble series to be a prelude to a bigger story that I'm working on (yes, I know, I should really finish my other stories first but… I've been bitten by a rabid plot bunny).**

**Will everything stay canon? Tbh no. Canon does not give me that freedom I need with some characters. And I will probably introduce a few characters not from canon (because really, Jeanne and Bayonetta were not the only witches to have ever existed, same with Balder and the Lumen), and I eventually want to have rising action leading up to the rebirth of the Umbra coven, with Bayonetta and Jeanne rebuilding their clan.**

**If you are still reading this, thank you. I hope you enjoy. Bayonetta is a fantastic world, and it really deserves a bigger fandom.**

_**And so we start at the beginning: the meeting of two forbidden lovers.**_

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_**Rosa**_

"_In your wickedness, you have broken the ancient commandments, and crafted a bond with one of the light."_

It was never supposed to be possible. Witches were supposed to be incapable of loving anything but the sisterhood. Men were mere playthings and witches fed off their lusty souls. Their bodies and souls belonged to the coven, their ancestors, and sisters in arms. Witches were tainted by the dark demons that they commanded, touched by Inferno.

And yet.

And yet.

One witch did fall.

Rosa had always loved flowers. Her sanctuary was a valley nestled high in the Alps of middle Europe. Every spring she secluded herself there, watching the wildflowers bloom in the light of the sun and moon. Their scent wrapped around her like a blanket and clung to her skin, and colorful petals entangled within her hair.

In this way, she appeared more like a woodland nymph than one of the great Umbra Witches. Like most witches, Rosa had dark black hair, which gleamed indigo under the light. Her skin was smooth and peach-colored; her face was oval with gently rounded cheekbones. She had light blue eyes that were almost gray curtained by thick lashes, and her pink lips were always curved into a soft smile. Rosa had always been different from other witches. While she was just as fierce a fighter as her sisters, unlike many witches Rosa was a kind soul. She did not fight unless necessary and never preyed upon mortal souls like so many other witches did for sport. She would rather spend her leisure watching nature flourish.

One early morning while Rosa was resting among the wildflowers, she sensed another divine presence approaching. Her eyes flew open and they stared at each other.

The morning rays bounced off the gilded armor, scattering golden light across the meadow. White and gold plating, along with the familiar crest of a rising sun upon the breastplate, told Rosa all she needed to know. It was a Lumen sage- the eternal rivals of the Umbra coven. He was a pale young man, tall and lean, with eyes like the sky and hair as golden as his armor. Neat curls swept away from his face, revealing arching cheekbones and thin lips.

His eyes were sharp like a hawk, studying the woman before him. The Lumen recognized the Witch Watch gracing her chest immediately; though without the artifact the sage would never have guessed that a witch stood before him. The Umbra was not in the customary battle uniform, but wore a dark blue dress with loose sleeves and a slightly flared skirt, a wide brown belt cinched around her waist for shape. Long indigo hair was pulled into a half-bun-ponytail on top of her crown, tied with a single red ribbon which tangled among the flower petals in the cascade of black that reached her ankles. She was staring at him, clearly just as surprised as he was at the other's presence.

"What are you doing here?" Her voice was soft but unwavering, surprising the Lumen by her lack of hostility, which would have been expected between the rival factions.

Rosa resisted the urge to shift nervously as the sage regarded her curiously, bright blue eyes boring down upon her. His voice was surprisingly deep when he spoke, despite how young he looked. "I did not realize that others knew of this place."

Rosa tilted her head as she studied his words. "ah. So this is your sanctuary as well?"

Her continuing friendliness seemed to confuse the young man as he nodded stiffly.

"Well I'm not against sharing." The young witch held out her hand in greeting. "I am Rosa, Witch of the Thorn."

There was an awkward pause as the Lumen simply stared at her hand. Then, rather hesitantly, the sage slowly raised his own hand to clasp hers in a handshake.

"You are… very kind… for a witch." He rumbled haltingly, still confused by the amused light in the witch's –in Rosa's – eyes.

Rosa smiled sweetly at him. "I get that a lot."

The blond man continued to stare at the Umbra, who was nothing like how the other Lumen sages had described her kind.

"So what is your name?"

He ever so slowly returned her smile. "I am Balder, of the Lumen Sages."

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_**Please review!**_

**Oh, and I forgot the disclaimer earlier…**** I DON'T OWN BAYONETTA**** (unfortunately) **

**Lots O' Love,**

**~Lilithia**


	2. Condemnation

**I DON'T OWN BAYONETTA OR ITS CHARACTERS**

**No matter what people might say, forbidden love **_**never**_** works out! LOL**

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_**Balder**_

"_Our laws are clear: they demand you be eternally imprisoned."_

Witches were supposed to be infertile, their bodies tainted by Inferno. Still, neither Rosa nor Balder could suppress their joy when they felt the life growing within the pretty young Umbra. But neither could they deny their fear. Rosa, being the gentle woman that she was, refused to even think of aborting the child. Balder agreed. It was not long after they discovered her pregnancy that the coven found out as well. And all hell broke loose.

The Umbra Queen and Elder Council called for a shared trial with the Lumen Council against the two lovers. The two clans would punish their respective members, and the gender of the abominable halfling would decide tis jurisdiction. The lovers were forcefully separated, Rosa imprisoned in the Umbra cages and Balder publicly detained before the tiers of Paradiso, strung spread-eagle with holy chains that burned his skin, forever imprinting his sin upon flesh.

When the child was born, the two lovers reunited after nine months before the dual Umbra and Lumen councils. Balder barely paid attention to the words of the elders as he stared at his daughter. He had fathered a witch; a beautiful creature with bright blue eyes, ebony curls, and plump, peachy cheeks. The little girl was nestled in the crook of Rosa's arms, and despite the mother looking weary and unkempt from her imprisonment; Balder had never seen anything so beautiful. Now he understood the miracle of mortals, their joy despite such short lives. Unlike immortals, the humans could create life. Suddenly Balder was overcome with jealousy; that mere mortals could possess the one thing he was forbidden to. The one happiness denied to the divine was children. And here a miracle had occurred, in the form of his innocent and brilliant divine daughter, and the clans were condemning them!

Rosa inched closer to him in an attempt to avoid the heavy glares of the council. Balder put his arm around her shoulders and drew her in, the witch resting her head against his chest and hiding their child between their bodies as if it would shield the baby from the councils' ire. The oppressive atmosphere thickened at the show of affection between the forbidden lovers, but Balder ignored it. Hesitantly, his hand stroked the top of his daughter's head, her black strands as soft as down feathers.

"Her name is Cereza." Rosa whispered to him.

Balder glanced at her. "Our child… We have a daughter…" He murmured in wonder, his hand trembling as he cupped the infant's head, her bright blue eyes matching his.

The moment was interrupted as a loud bang echoed in the hall of the Umbra court, the Witch Queen's staff hitting the floor and gaining everyone's attention. But instead of jumping apart, the small family drew closer together, increasing the wrath of the councils.

"Enough." The Witch Queen's voice was harsh. She approached Rosa to study the child in her arms. And much to their astonishment, a red light flashed from within the Witch Queen's jeweled staff and seemed to land in Cereza's left eye. The child blinked blearily, unconcerned and apparently unaffected. The Umbra Council stared at the baby, incredulous and hoping that the Lumen embassy had not seen what just occurred. The Witch Queen frowned and pulled away, Rosa and Balder glancing down worryingly at the now reddish gleam in their daughter's eye.

"Our laws are clear," The Witch Queen resumed her stance between them and the councils, "They demand you be eternally imprisoned. As for the impure child, she must be kept from the path of the dark arts forever!"

After this the Lumen Cardinal stood up, standing alongside the Witch Queen. "As for you, Balder of the Right Eye, you will be punished by cleansing flame, and are hereby stripped of your rank and shall be cast down from Paradiso. Such a shame, really. You were the best of us."

Rosa sucked in a breath and glanced at her lover. "They're going to burn you –"

"Furthermore, the two of you will never see each other again!" The Umbra Queen hissed, and then pointed her staff at Rosa. "Take her away!"

"_NO!"_

Balder and Rosa clung to one another as the Lumen and Umbra guards simultaneously grabbed the pair. The jolting movements disturbed the infant, and Cereza's wailing was added to the clamor of shouts and protests. Large men in white and gold armor, their faces obscured by red helms, gripped Balder by his shoulders and pulled him from Rosa – _"ROSA!"_ – Umbra witches dressed in ebony body suits and black veils dug their nails into Rosa's arms as they pried the witch's fingers away from her lover's grasp –_"BALDER!" –_ Until finally, Balder lost his grip on Rosa's hand, and the Lumen embassy was engulfed in golden light and disappeared into Paradiso above.

Rosa bit her lip as she and little Cereza were roughly led to the lower dungeons of the Umbra tower. The baby girl's cries bounced off the cold, damp stone walls, echoing the pain within Rosa's heart. She soothed the child as best as she could despite her own hopelessness. And when the warded steel grates clanged shut behind her, Rosa sank to her knees and wept.

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_**Please review!**_

**Lots O' Love,**

**~Lilithia**


	3. The Umbran Way Ch 1 and 2

**Hello my readers! I know it has been a long time since I've updated anything, but I just started college this fall and I've been REALLY busy. I probably won't get to any of my longer stories for a while, but in the meantime I'm going to stick to a couple oneshots to keep my creativity flowing :)**

**IMPORTANT:**

**So this is not exactly a background story for any certain character. While I was writing Jeanne's background story (it will be released soon after this, I promise!) I found that I couldn't explain as much of the Umbran society through mere actions as I had hoped. So this oneshot is framed as sort of a 'textbook' reference in explaining the complexities of Umbran society. This is only the first chapter, and there will be more between various character oneshots.**

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The Umbran Way:

A study of Witches

_The world of the divine clans is steeped in history and powers beyond comprehension. Theirs is a history spanning millennia, memories which reach back centuries._

_We are the keepers of the Left Eye of the Creator._

_We are the enforcers of Inferno._

_We are the Umbra._

Chapter One: From whence have we come?

The general story of the beginning of a witch is well known to all of you young apprentices who read this text: We are borne from the soul of a woman scorned by man, who died in violence and in hatred. In death, your souls called out for revenge, and the Goddess answered you by reincarnating you as Umbra. She granted you power so that never again could a man hurt you, never again would you be weak, and with the Sisterhood, never again would you be alone.

But has anyone ever seen an Umbra witch being borne? For the Divine Clans, the Lumen and the Umbra, are infertile. We do not mate, we do not fall in love. Our souls belong to the Clan and our Goddess. So how do witches come into being?

No doubt you apprentices have been told that the Goddess gives birth to each and every Umbra child. As far as we know, this is true. In the Temple of the Moon there is a tower known as the Tower of Life. It reaches up to the moon, taller than any other structure in Crescent Valley. At the top is a large well of pure magic, which stretches into eternity and shimmers with every color imaginable. This is the Portal of Rebirth, where the Goddess gives us life.

Perhaps, to those apprentices who are reading this, you will be lucky to witness such a birth one day, as rare as they are. As of the year this book was printed, in the 984th year of our Queen Hekate, only two witches have been borne to us since the beginning of her reign.

When a witch is born, her soul first appears to us in this Portal of Rebirth. The tower will begin to pulsate with expanding magical energy, which extend all the way to the edges of the valley. Clouds will circle the tower, lightening will flash, and the Clan will gather upon the face of this tower to watch as moonlight begins to gather within the Portal of Rebirth. And as the moon's rays begin to coalesce within the magic, a soul shall be seen.

Souls are immaterial things. What is seen in the Portal is a body made of pure magic and life energy. It is a sheer outline of the witch at her full potential before she is even borne, fully grown and floating in the center of the well of magic. This is when a potential witch-mother may see how strong her apprentice will become (see Chapter 2 on Clan Hierarchy). Then the soul begins to shrink and a physical body is formed. The magic creates a cocoon around the soul and we do not see the body as it is formed.

From here the cocoon descends from the well and touches the ground of the fountain, where the temple priestesses will finally retrieve the cocoon from the Portal and open it up for the Clan to see the young witch.

When a witch emerges from her cocoon, she appears as a young girl, a little older than a toddler. No matter the physical age, a witch just-borne is what we call an infant.

As for memories of previous lives, it is difficult to say whether a witch will be born with or without her memories of her human life. Some will remember in time, be it a couple years or a couple centuries. Some will never remember their previous life. The phenomena seems to be completely random.

Chapter 2: Clan Hierarchy

There are two types of relationships within the Umbra Clan: familial and military. To begin, we shall start with the first.

The Clan is a large family. We are Sisters, daughters of the Moon Goddess. There are only two types of intimate relationships allowed within the clan: That of the witch-mother, and that of a sword-sister. Though these may seem obvious to those young apprentices reading this, these relationships are an integral part one's education to understand Umbran society.

Familial:

A witch-mother selects her apprentice simply by instinct. Those witches that are eligible to take on an apprentice, based on a combination of age and strength, are gathered during the birth of a new witch. These witches gaze upon the face of the infant, but the infant witch will only open her eyes for the one meant to be her witch-mother. Once a witch-mother is chosen, it is her duty to teach her daughter the ways of the Umbra.

To be swordsisters is to make a pact between two witches to act as one fighting unit. The militaristic force of the Umbra Clan in divided at its most basic level by these partnerships. The final test for apprentice witches is to go into Inferno for the first time in order to make their first Daemon Contract. Two apprentices are sent in at a time, usually paired by compatibility by the Council.

The relationship between swordsisters is deeper than any other relationship a witch will ever make. It is a marriage of the heart. Your soul becomes merely a half, and only with your swordsister are you whole. Your movements and fighting style will sync, your magic will merge, and some swordsisters are even able to command the daemons of their other half.

Military:

The Divine Clans are both armed forces. It is our duties to fight and enforce the laws of the universe. Ours is a hierarchy based on a combination of skill and power, and only to some extent age. Though it is generally assumed that the oldest witches have the most magical knowledge, even the youngest witch can outrank an elder through sheer ability.

At the top of our chain of command, just under the Goddess herself, are our Queens. The witch chosen as the 'official' queen is often referred to as '_Pharis_' , meaning the 'Queen Mother'. The witch who is the partner to the queen takes on the role of '_Shador_', the 'Shadow Queen'. It is the Pharis to which the Creator granted the Left Eye, the powers over darkness. The Queen Mother's duty is to ensure the survival of the Umbra and to keep order. She is the living connection between the Goddess and her daughters. The Shador, or Shadow Queen, may be just as powerful as the Queen Mother, and in the case of an emergency without the Queen Mother, the role of leader descends upon the Shadow Queen.

The difference between the Pharis and the Shador is not one of power or skill, but one of leadership. A Queen-Mother must be capable of commanding not only the respect, but the loyalty, trust, and love of her people. It is not unusual for the Shador to be the more powerful witch in the royal partnership if her swordsister is the more tactful or diplomatic of the two.

Though it is not required, a Pharis may take on an apprentice if she finds a young witch of unusual power. The daughter of a queen is called the 'Alleira', but she is no princess, for the throne is not guaranteed to her. The Pharis may pass her knowledge on to the Alleira, however in order to inherit the throne the Alleira must triumph in trial by combat against any other witches who believe they are worthy of the throne (see Chapter 9 on Rank Competition).

There are two equal ranks underneath the Queens.

There is the Council of High Elders, the '_Eldier_', a group of the eldest witches in the clan. These select few witches have seen generations of witches come and go, thousands if not a million years old. They are advisers to the Pharis, emissaries and diplomats to other sovereigns, and in times of great need, may overrule a Queen's decisions in the case of a unanimous decision.

Equal to them is the Honor Guard, also known as the 'Queen's Guards' or the '_Elidhu_'. These witches are the highest tier in the Umbra military force, ten of the most powerful and faithful witches of the current generation. They ensure the safety of the Queen first and foremost. They are the Queen's commanders and most trusted individuals, chosen for their supremacy and loyalty. Each Elidhu may also command a contingent of the military, usually the general of an army or specialized force.

Beneath the Honor Guard are the ranks of the Elite, or the '_Elidah_'. Like the Elidhu, these are ten of the next most powerful witches, who act as backup to the Honor Guard. Should any of the Honor Guard fall in battle, the next most worthy Elite witch will inherit the open position. The Elidah are also military commanders, usually charged with a few or several companies.

Below the Elidah are the '_Eru_', the rest of the clan population and general Umbra witches of varying power. And finally at the bottom ranks are the apprentices, collectively known as the 'daughters'. Though a witch-mother may be the main guardian of an apprentice, the Umbra Clan raises its daughters collectively, fostering deep familial bonds between all of the sisters.


	4. At First Sight

**Look guys, I didn't take an eternity to update! Yay! *confetti bursts***

**Anyway, here is the promised introduciton of Jeanne. This isn't the only piece I will do for her, so be assured that there will be more to come regarding our favorite witches. Anyway... Read on!**

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In the northern tower of the Great Palace of Crescent Valley, a young witch paced the walls as a mixture of dim sunlight and moonlight filtered in through the window curtains. It was always dusk in Crescent Valley: the sun forever just peeking over the horizon, a half disk of orange fire, and the moon filling up the sky with silver radiance, twice as large as it appeared in the mortal realms. The moon would always be dominant in the realm of the witches, hovering just above the Temple of the Moon Goddess.

Jeanne paused in her pacing, a ring of purple magic lazily circling her feet and she stood directly parallel to the floor, untouched by what mortals might have called gravity. She was a child by Umbra standards, a mere century old, her body still looked like a twelve-year-old, with a flat chest and narrow hips, and her bright white-gold hair plaited into twin braids that reached to her shoulder-blades. Her face was still pudgy around the cheeks and her legs seemed disproportionally long compared to the rest of her body. But Jeanne felt no insecurities, for she was confident that she would grow into a devastating beauty one day. The Goddess created her daughters to be the fall of Men, temptations forever out of reach and untouchable.

"Witches are the daughters of the Mother Goddess." Jeanne quoted in a high-pitched, sneering voice, imitating her teacher. "We are born of the souls of the women scorned by men. Abused and tortured in life, dying in violence, our anger called out to the Goddess in death. We are reborn by Her grace into beings greater than the mortal imagination: we are magical, we are powerful, we are beauty, we are intelligence, and we are immortal. We are the abandoned daughters of God. Men quake at the sight of our majesty, yearn for our beauty, but they will wither in the face of magic and time. We are the Umbra: bearers of the pure darkness, masters of the arcane, rulers of Inferno, and guardians of the Left Eye of God."

Glancing at the open book on her bed, Jeanne kept rehearsing her lessons, beginning her pacing once more. "Just as the Lumen Sages dictate logic and science, the Umbra are the law-keepers for the supernatural and magical. We are neither light nor darkness, but chaos, existing in the grey realms between good and evil. Our love lies only with the Sisterhood. Our loyalty lies only in our Queen Mother. Our hearts belong only to the Goddess. No man or demon may take precedence."

Huffing, the young witch kicked off of the wall and landed with a loud "oomph!" onto the cushions of her bed. The books on her bed jumbled at the sudden impact, flopping aside, pages whispering in angry tones. Ice blue eyes skimmed over the titles: _The Umbra Way: A study of Witches_, _Theory of the Arcane Level VI_, _Treatise of the Goddess_, _Demons and Ghouls of the 4__th__ Infernal Plane_, _The Trinity of Reality. _There were more, of course, but the poor young witch's head was hurting from all of the information she had to study.

"_**Dong! Dong! Dong!"**_

The clock tower of the Great Palace sounded, the third hour of the waxing night. And right on time, a knock sounded on Jeanne's door. Without waiting for her answer, the door opened.

"Still in bed, my daughter?" A full-grown witch asked amusedly as she entered Jeanne's room.

Jeanne huffed and sat up, pale golden wisps escaping her braids and sticking up in odd places. She sat with her legs extended and sprawled apart, back slumped forward, hands braced on the blankets of her bed. Currently, she was dressed in only leggings and a breast band, having been too lazy to dress properly that morning. "Why do I have to study these things?" she whined. "Magic, I understand, but studying the teachings of the Goddess? It is common sense, is it not?"

The older witch gave her a scolding look as she leaned onto on leg, placing her hands on her hips. "Jeanne." She deadpanned.

"I'm just sayin'." Jeanne mumbled, picking lint off of her leggings.

The older witch rolled her eyes and in a sudden movement, tipped the bed that her student had been sitting on.

"Maebh!" Jeanne yelped as she was hurled out of bed.

"Come on." Maebh said flippantly as she turned to leave. "It is time to train, brat."

Grumbling, Jeanne scrambled to grab the first tunic she could find, which happened to be a red one with blue embroidery, and pull it over her head. The hemline touched mid-thigh, and she wrapped a leather belt around her waist the cinch the outfit together. The books that had been tossed off of her bed floated upwards as Jeanne grabbed a knapsack and held it open for the floating books to arrange themselves in.

"Daughter~" Maebh's impatient voice floated up from the stairwell.

"I'm coming! Geez, let me get ready!" Jeanne called back, jumping on one leg as she pulled her boots on. With messy hair and wrinkled clothes, Jeanne dashed out of her room and towards the stairwell to her witch-mother.

Maebh was waiting for her at the bottom of the stairwell, staring out the entrance to the tower. She glanced back over her shoulder to see Jeanne's arrival, her serious face relaxing for a moment at the sight of her student.

The witch was one of the oldest witches in the clan, yet her age did not show. Like all Umbra, Maebh stopped aging when she reached her prime. Yet there was wisdom in the witch's eyes, borne from centuries upon centuries of existence. Maebh was not what many would classify as a natural beauty: Her eyes were grey and flinty, always seeming to glare, her mouth was in a permanent frown, and her face was narrow, almost pinched. The faint wrinkles around her mouth and eyes were not from age, but from her constant seriousness. And her severe attitude matched this impression. Her hair was thin and pulled into a low ponytail at the base of her neck, a long ribbon of dark brown hair running down her back like a racing stripe. Her skin was pale, unnaturally so, and there was one nasty scar that ran across her jugular, callused red skin that never seemed to heal. Jeanne had asked her about it once, but Maebh never answered her.

Not that Jeanne ever saw Maebh's face much. She constantly wore the traditional veils of an elder witch, but she was not just any Eldier. See, Maebh was very special to the society of the Umbra: she was their Queen-Mother.

That made Jeanne the apprentice to the Queen. The Alleira, or "honored daughter". When the Goddess gives birth to a witch, an older witch chooses her to be their apprentice. When Maebh, the Umbran Queen, looked upon the newly borne Jeanne, she had felt the power within the infant witch. Enough power to be a potential queen. And so, Jeanne was chosen to learn from the Umbra Queen herself.

Not that Jeanne ever felt lucky to be in such a position. Maebh was a ruthless mentor, although perhaps such an attitude was the only effective way to get through to the sassy apprentice.

"Oi! Brat!"

Jeanne winced as Maebh smacked the back of her head, having caught her staring. "You ready to go to the training grounds or not?"

"Yes, mother." Jeanne grumbled.

"Right, let us be on our way." Maebh spun on her heel and strode purposefully forward. Like so many towers of Umbran make, the northern tower had no stairs. Floating silver discs lazily circled the tower at different intervals, which made the towers easily accessible for the apprentices. As for full Umbran witches…

Jeanne frowned in jealousy as Maebh simply stepped off the edge of the open tower doorway to the stairwell and into empty space. Gravity had not a chance to touch the witch queen before dark purple magic swirled around Maebh's body and suddenly a giant bird rose into the air. Maebh's aerial form was a demonic vulture, wings laced with magic so darkly purple it could almost be mistaken for black if it weren't for the occasional red sparks. The entirety of Maebh's head was a mass of dark purple magic with two narrowed red eyes seemingly floating within and her talons and beak made of bleached bone. The rest of the body was made of large, black feathers, tipped with deep purple magic sparking with red. From each wing tip hung a golden, arrow-shaped medallion with rounded tips, the icon of the fly in Egyptian imagery which symbolized tenacity and survival. It was a perfectly sensible choice for Maebh, who was a rough-around-the-edges type of woman.

_I'll meet you at the training ground. Be quick._ Maebh's voice sounded in Jeanne's mind as the giant demonic vulture wheeled once in the air, and then soared into the sky to the south, where the training grounds were located.

"I can't wait until I learn shape-shifting." Jeanne muttered as she began leaping from one floating disc to another, making her way to the valley floor. "This takes too long."

With her book bag slapping against her thighs, Jeanne ran across the gardens and terraces of the Umbran city, weaving through alleys and dodging other witches, yelling rudely at anyone who got in her way (the other witches had learned not to expect manners from her anymore). When Jeanne finally reached the edge of the training grounds, Maebh was already stretching and practicing various acrobatic techniques.

The training grounds were a series of large, flat islands floating above the southern end of Crescent Valley. The island which Jeanne and Maebh were currently on was the most basic training field, one giant expanse of green often interrupted by scorch marks or craters, remnants of other witches who had trained there. The other two floating island were far more challenging. Upon one was a gigantic coliseum, where the witches held challenges, mock fights, and various battle games. The other island was looked more like a floating building than anything, for upon it was the Battle Simulator, lovingly referred to as the 'Chamber of One Thousand Deaths'. No one actually died in the Simulator, but the magical machine could create realistic battle illusions that appeared very real. Unfortunately, Jeanne was still far from being proficient enough to experience the Simulator.

"You are two minutes later than usual." Maebh chided as she approached her student.

"Silva's stupid cat tripped me and I went face-first into the ground!" Jeanne snapped, angrily brushing back a lock of pale blonde hair from her eyes. "I swear that creature is out to get me!"

Maebh hardly looked impressed. "And to think you are supposed to be the most powerful apprentice in the last millennia. You can't even dodge a mere pet."

"I AM the most powerful apprentice!" Jeanne stomped her foot, white magic swirling around her hair.

Maebh tilted her head back in a taunting manner, a sneer in her eye as she looked down upon the younger witch. "Then show me."

Before Jeanne could toss back some snarky reply, the witch queen was already attacking. Jeanne ungracefully scrambled out of the way, just barely. Dropping her book bag, Jeanne quickly found her balance and began to dodge her lightning-fast mentor.

Hours later, a beat up Jeanne was making her way back to the northern tower, her left leg limping. But she was sporting a huge grin, having successfully landing not one, but two hits on Maebh! Which was saying something, considering how powerful her witch-mother was. Jeanne paused when she spotted a curious creature out of the corner of her eye.

Turning her head fully, Jeanne felt confusion as to what she was actually looking at. The thing looked like a roughly hand-made doll, all yarn and mis-matched buttons, nearly the length of her forearm. It barely resembled a cat, with a badly-woven tail and an odd tuft of yellow hair at the top. Most interestingly, the doll was _walking_. Perhaps some witch was practicing her voodoo? No, Jeanne decided, no real Umbran witch would deign to use such a wretched… thing.

The cat-doll-thing was small enough not to draw any noticed as it walked on its two legs through the dark allies of Crescent City. Jeanne glanced back and forth to make sure no one noticed before she slipped into a narrow alley to follow the oddity. She kept to the shadows, ducking behind walls and alcoves whenever the doll would glance back.

Her curiosity increased when she noticed that the doll was headed to one of the older, less populated parts of the city. The southern district of Crescent City was synonymous with a religious sector. The Temple of the Moon Goddess was the most visited portion of the city, but other than that the southern district rarely took part in the daily lives of the Umbra. Most of the other buildings in the sector were shrines or private workshops for the more scholarly witches who preferred the isolation.

Jeanne paused when the small creature began heading for the edge of the city. She had almost forgotten! Below the main island which the Crescent City sat on, another small island floated below the southern district: the dungeons. Why would a voodoo doll be walking to the dungeons?

When the creature reached the ledge of the city, it launched itself off of the edge and began to free fall. Jeanne peered over the cliff, her eyes widening as the doll drifted on the wind and sailed effortlessly onto the island prison. The young witch gulped, unsure of what her next move should be. She had yet to learn how to shape shift, so if she jumped and missed…

Jeanne furrowed her brows to think of a good solution. Then she smirked. "Vorrken!" She exclaimed, spinning around and racing back to the apprentice quarters of the northern tower.

One of the older apprentices of Jeanne's time, Vorrken was more of a scholar than a fighter. She was always inventing new things, and one contraption in particular would help Jeanne fly without having to shift. Making record time, Jeanne cut through the Crescent City like a scythe, her heart racing at the prospect of adventure. Jumping the glowing discs, Jeanne entered the tower and stormed up to the upper levels, where the older apprentices were housed.

"Whoa Jeanne!" An apprentice named Farris exclaimed as the blonde nearly collided with her in the stairwell. "Who's set your tail on fire?" Farris called after Jeanne when the blonde did not pause at all, the question echoing up the corridor.

"Just up to mischief!" Jeanne's answer floated down, though she was already out of sight. Farris shook her head, mumbling about how troublesome the younger apprentices were.

Meanwhile, Jeanne had reached the floor where Vorrken's suite was located. Without announcing herself, Jeanne barged in. A loud yelp greeted her as the sound of heavy books tumbled to the floor and a frustrated woman glared up at her from the ground, sprawled ungracefully on her bum.

"What the fuck Jeanne?" Vorrken exclaimed as Jeanne winced. The younger witch offered her hand, which Vorrken grabbed onto as leverage to pull herself up. "I just finished organizing those and now look what you've done!"

"Sorry! Sorry!" Jeanne tried to appease her friend, helping her pick up the books.

"You should be." The older witch mumbled. Vorrken had deep raven hair, nearly blue in color, with pale green eyes that were often obscured behind Umbran glasses. Jeanne surmised that Vorrken must have had an off-day from training today, because the witch was lacking the usual Umbran uniform. Instead of heels and the witch-weave armor, Vorrken donned a pair of fluffy socks, shorts, and a loose blouse. Her hair was braided on one side, with several Nordic beads woven into it.

"Now," Vorrken huffed when they had finished putting away her books, turning away from her rather tall bookcase to cast a cautious glare at Jeanne. "What trouble are you going to get me into now?"

"I'm not here to get you in trouble, I just need to borrow something!" Jeanne whined, giving Vorrken an innocent smile which the older witch did not believe for a second. "Besides, you still owe me for swiping those scrolls from the queen's study for you!"

Vorrken sighed, defeated. "Yes, I know. What do you need, you troublesome girl?"

The smile Jeanne answered with made Vorrken regret ever befriending the young Alleira. "I want to fly."

"No." Vorrken shook her head. "No, no,no. You know that if you get caught with that our witch-mothers will confiscate it! That's my pride and joy! I can't risk its designs until I've passed my Harrowing!"

"You owe me." Jeanne smirked, crossing her arms confidently. "You can't say no."

Vorrken frowned with a huff, striding angrily to her closet. "We're even after this. And no more involving me with your shit."

Jeanne held back a chuckle as Vorrken swung her closet door open, walking to the back to reveal storage seals. Placing her hand above the designs, Vorrken inserted her magic, making the lines and circles glow as the dimensional suitcase opened up. And out popped a pair of mechanical wings.

"Do NOT get caught with them. And I do _not_ want to see even a _single scratch_ on these babies when you return them to me. Got it?" Vorrken demanded.

"I'll take good care of them." Jeanne purred, caressing the silver metal with magical stone inlay.

Jeanne took twice as long returning to the southern district, having to keep out of sight so no one would notice Vorrken's contraption. When she finally approached the edge of the main island, Jeanne began having her doubts. Nervously, she looked at the dungeon island, to the mechanical wings, and back to the dungeons.

"C'mon, don't back out now." Jeanne muttered to herself.

Taking a deep breath, Jeanne strapped the flying machine to her back and began charging it with her magic. When the gauges all read full, Jeanne took a moment to practice hovering in the air for a moment. Then, letting out her breath, she leapt forward. For an instant, it seemed as if gravity hesitated. Then Jeanne felt herself going down, and panicked, sending a wave of magic into the contraption. The wings sputtered at the sudden increase of power, and Jeanne yelped as she was propelled forward a lot faster than she had initially planned.

With jerky movements, Jeanne finally got used to powering the wings, and eventually made her way to the dungeon island. She landed unsteadily, stumbling forward a few steps and landing on her hands and knees. She hissed as she stood and noticed that she had scrapped her palms on the ground. Carefully removing the mechanical wings, she hid them in a group of bushes and proceeded towards the foreboding prison.

The Umbra rarely ever had a need for prisoners, for they usually killed their enemies, ruthlessly. But though the Umbran dungeons appeared dilapidated, but Jeanne knew better. There were ancient wards seeped into every brick of the dark tower, the sheer amount of dark magic practically suffocated her. There were no witches on guard at the tower, since they had better things to do and no one had ever escaped the Umbran prison ever before. Besides, where could one flee in the dimension of witches? To fall off of the islands was eternal damnation, and the only other place to go to was the Crescent City, full of witches. The tower was a lot bigger than Jeanne had initially thought, seeing it from the ground up. The visible windows were mere slits in the walls, barely big enough for anyone to have a proper view. There were masses of thorny vines crawling up the sides of the tower, no doubt poisonous. The spires of the tower were glowing with a dark black light, which Jeanne recognized as a powerful debilitating curse, weakening whomever was trapped within.

That gave her pause- Jeanne did not remember anyone having ever been imprisoned since she had been born a witch. Then again, she had no doubt that the witches had enemies older than most of the world. Most puzzling, there was a ring of dark, pitch-black clouds flashing with green lightning circling the top of the prison tower. More curses.

"I don't think I ever saw those before." Jeanne muttered, scrunching her eyes together as the lightning cracked brightly. Perhaps there was an illusion cast over the prison form the outside? But for what purpose? Jeanne shook her head, knowing that such thoughts were futile.

Glancing at the large doubled doors of the prison entrance, twice as tall as a witch, wrought iron, spiked and no doubt cursed, Jeanne knew there was no way she was getting in that way. Did that furry little thing even enter the prison? The young witch looked around, but the tower took up most of the floating island, so she could not think of anywhere else for the creature to disappear. And there had to be another way in if that thing could come and go.

The Umbran apprentice began to slowly circle the perimeter of the tower. She began to have her doubts about the whole fiasco, knowing it was highly unlikely that there could be a breach in Umbran security. That is, until something caught her eye. Doing a double-take, Jeanne smirked.

A sewer entrance!

It was small, barely big enough for a child to squeeze through. But there was definitely enough room for a little voodoo doll. Jeanne glanced down at her body, for once thankful that she had yet to grow boobs or a butt. Lowering herself onto her stomach, Jeanne valiantly ignored the small drizzle of no doubt dirty water, wriggling her way through the wall. The wards touched her magic briefly, but slipped off like water when they did not recognize her as a prisoner.

As she passed through the outer walls, Jeanne felt the enchantments of the prison suppressing her magic, stripping her bare of her powers. When Jeanne finally made her way completely through the sewer entrance, she was completely without magic. She stood up and glanced down at her attire, biting back a groan at the stained front. Well, at least it was not one of her favorite tunics. She would just have to throw this one out, because there was no way she would be able to get those stains out, not even with magic.

With one last huff, Jeanne glanced around, placing her hands on her hips. A shiver ran up her back as she took in the dreary atmosphere and cold, biting air. That had to be magic too, because the Crescent Valley never got cold. Yet here, Jeanne could see her breath fanning out with every exhale. She wrapped her arms around her torso, walking slowly forward, careful to keep her steps silent.

The inner circle of the tower seemed to extend all the way up to the top, with murky green light barely filtering in through the skylight. Despite this, the lower floors were nearly completely dark, and Jeanne moved extra carefully as she looked for the stairs. Even the stairs seemed to be decaying, every couple steps were missing, evidenced by the multiple piles of rocky debris lying on the ground floor. Jeanne carefully ascended the stairs, leaping over the gaps and keeping her steps light in case another piece of the stairwell decided to give under her.

She paused when she heard a muffled sound, her eyes narrowing and her muscles tensing. On her way up Jeanne had passed several dark corridors branching off from the staircase, but they had all seemed empty. But this next hallway, while still dark, seemed less abandoned. The air was somehow fresher, and if she looked carefully at the dusty floors, the layers of dirt and time were less prominent than in others. This place was inhabited.

Slipping into the shadows, Jeanne was struck by her stupidity. She had not even brought any of her weapons! What if there was some mad killer… _thing_ in here?! Stupid! Jeanne was about to turn around and make a quick escape when a shadow appeared at the end of the hallway, where it branched off into who knew where. Jeanne froze, thinking she had been caught. Then, the most surprising sound greeted her ears.

_Giggling._

Jeanne frowned. Was it a trick? An illusion? Perhaps some evil demonic being trying to lure her into its clutches? Would the Umbra even bother to imprison a demon? No, they were more likely to completely annihilate it… Whatever! Why was she suddenly so hesitant?! She was Jeanne, the freaking Alleira and heiress to the Umbra throne! She was the most powerful apprentice born in an entire millennia!

Squaring her shoulders, Jeanne snuck further down the corridor, reaching the end of the hall and peeking her head around the corner. Her eyes widened.

"What the fuck are you doing here?!" Jeanne yelled as she leapt out from her hiding spot, only to wince as an ear-splitting scream greeted her.

The young witch wasn't that much younger then herself, wearing old-fashioned glasses and her dark ebony hair braided with red ribbons. Her dress was old as well, ragged and torn in many places, crudely stitched together and too thin for how cold the prison was. Jeanne and the other girl paused and stared at each other, Jeanne suddenly realizing that this wasn't just some lost apprentice. She had never even seen this girl before! And all the Umbra witches knew each other, there were not that many of each other and they had eternity to remember everyone's faces. Then Jeanne noticed the girl playing with the same voodoo doll that she had seen earlier that afternoon, a patchwork of mismatched cloth and badly stiched.

"Wha- Who are you?" The dark-haired girl asked, her voice soft and confused.

Jeanne narrowed her eyes and lifted her chin arrogantly. "The name's Jeanne. And how the fuck did _you_ get here?"

The two girls stared at each other for a long while before the girl with ebony hair met Jeanne's statement with equal confidence. "_I_ am Cereza. And I _live_ here."

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**More to come! Read and Review!**

**Love,**

**~Lilithia**


	5. Illegal Teachings

**Hey I'm alive! And updating! Woohoo! Miracles do happen.**

**Well, here's more Jeanne sassing and Cereza... dealing with all of her shit. Haha silly girls. They are so much fun to write.**

**I DON'T OWN ANYTHING.**

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"_**I**__ am Cereza. And I __**live**__ here."_

The shy girl suddenly narrowed her eyes. "Cussing isn't very ladylike, you know."

Jeanne rolled her eyes and ignored the comment. "Why haven't I ever seen you before? You're a witch, that's for sure. Why are you in the prison?"

The girl, Cereza, ducked her head. "I… I've always been here." She whispered, clutching her doll to her chest tightly.

Jeanne's eyes widened before she quickly wiped the shock from her face. "But… you're a witch. Like me. Why…?"

Cereza shrugged her shoulders, keeping her chin tucked into the ugly little doll. "The other witches don't like me. They glare at me whenever they bring food, and push me away if I approach them. Mummy says to just ignore them but… They 're so mean…"

Jeanne was quiet for once, not knowing what to say. The Umbra Clan depended on the bonds of sisterhood. It was inconceivable to her that they would ever mistreat another of their kind, especially a child, given how rare and treasured young witches were. Every apprentice was a daughter of the Goddess and a gift of fate. Why would they lock this girl away? Jeanne eyed Cereza. She didn't look dangerous… in fact, the girl looked like she wouldn't last two seconds in a fight!

"Do you hate me too?" Cereza suddenly asked.

"Who- me?" Jeanne was brought out of her reverie. Cereza nodded. Jeanne shrugged. "Well… I don't have a reason to, so no. Do you know why you were imprisoned?"

Cereza shifted uncomfortably. "Mummy says that it's her fault."

"What is?" Jeanne questioned. But Cereza only shrugged.

Sighing, Jeanne and Cereza were left in an awkward silence for a couple moments. At the sound of movement, Jeanne's eyes left the floor and darted up to the younger witch. Cereza held out her arm and offered the hideous doll to Jeanne. The blonde frowned, and daintily took a hold of the doll, pinching its arm between her thumb and forefinger.

"This is Cheshire." Cereza smiled shyly. "He's my best friend!"

Still holding the voodoo-looking creature an arm's length aware, Jeanne tried to smile back but it only turned into a grimace. "Err, thanks."

Suddenly the doll began to move and it waved its arm at Jeanne. The blonde apprentice gasped and dropped the doll, which managed to land on its feet. 'Cheshire' then began to dance around Jeanne's legs, her wide grey eyes following the doll and its jig.

Cereza giggled. "Mummy made him for me!"

Jeanne bent down, resting her hands on her knees and studied the doll. "This is amazing spellcasting!" she murmured. Animation was one of the hardest schools of magic.

Cereza swept Cheshire into her arms and spun in a circle. "Yup! Mummy is really powerful!"

Jeanne furrowed her brow. "Your witch-mother?" Odd, most witch-mothers did not bother spoiling their daughters with such frivolous objects. Gifts were always practical among the Umbra culture: weapons, spells, magical objects, books, scrolls, etc.

"What's a witch-mother?" Cereza tilted her head to the right.

Jeanne scoffed. "It's the elder witch that raises you after the Goddess gives birth to us!"

Cereza shook her head. "No, Mummy gave birth to me!"

Jeanne laughed at that. "That's impossible!"

"Why?"

"Witches can't get pregnant! And good riddance!"

Still, Cereza was looking at Jeanne like she was crazy. Now Jeanne was starting to get frustrated. This ignorant girl! Who was the fool who had raised her, or rather forgot to? Had Cereza even been taught the basic teachings of the Umbra?

Huffing, Jeanne crossed her arms. "Listen, I don't know what a child like you is doing here –"

"Hey! You aren't any older than me!"

" –but playtime is over." Jeanne concluded. "I don't know who was in charge of your training, but it is about time you learned properly."

Before Cereza could protest, Jeanne had grabbed her hand and began dragging her back down the way she had initially came. Cereza seemed too surprise to resist, making it easier for Jeanne to drag her into the inner circle of the tower and down the stairs.

"Wait! Where are we going? Jeanne!" Cereza panted, not nearly as in shape as the other girl.

"To enlightenment, my dear!" Jeanne chirped over her shoulder.

When they reached the sewer exit that Jeanne had used to enter the prison, Cereza froze. "I… Jeanne, I've never been outside the tower…" she mumbled nervously.

Jeanne scoffed. "Of course you have! We are all born on the Temple of the Moon! Perhaps you hit your head while playing in this tower or something."

Cereza shook her head furiously. "I really have not! All that I know about the outside is what I see through Cheshire's eyes!"

Jeanne gave Cereza a questioning look, and the darker-haired girl blushed. "I use Cheshire to spy on the outside, since I'm not allowed to leave this place."

"Clever." Jeanne nodded, before turning back to the sewer and getting onto her belly. "Now follow me!"

Cereza opened her mouth to protest, but her new friend was already halfway through the dark tunnel. She glanced at Cheshire. "What do you think?"

The doll merely grinned back. Cereza sighed and scanned the room for a place to hide Cheshire until she came back. Spotting an alcove in a pile of debris, she ran over and stuffed the doll into it, whispering that she would be back, before returning to the sewer exit. Then she lowered herself down and followed Jeanne.

A strange sensation overtook Cereza as she approached the end of the tunnel. It felt like something warm and fuzzy were filling up her veins. She wanted to run and laugh all at once, and the sensation only became stronger when Jeanne helped her out of the hole in the wall.

Cereza blinked at the sudden assault of sunlight, even if it was only evening, her eyes used to the gloom of the tower. When she held up her hand to block the light from her eyes, she gasped. Red and blue sparks were flying from her fingers!

"What is happening to me?!" Cereza exclaimed.

Jeanne looked at her like she was crazy. "It's your magic." Her deadpan voice held an unsaid '_duh'_ at the end of the statement, but Cereza was too astonished to respond. The blonde witch looked at the other in confusion.

"Haven't you used magic before?"

Cereza shook her head, and Jeanne felt her incredulity and outrage grow. "_What_?! All witches have magic! Don't you know that that is how Cheshire can move?"

"I didn't know I had magic too…" Cereza whispered, her eyes transfixed on the sparks flying around her hands.

Jeanne scoffed and summoned up a whirl of white magic to her palms, holding them up so that Cereza could see it too. "Well, now you do."

The two girls locked eyes and sported matching grins.

"Alright! Time for magic lessons 101!" Jeanne once again grabbed Cereza by the arm and yanked her forward towards the edge of the island. "I borrowed a little flying device from my friend, so we'll take that back to the apprentice tower. We should probably stay out of sight, given your, ah, imprisonment."

_Why was a young witch like her imprisoned anyway? _Jeanne wondered.

Births were extremely rare within not only the Umbra clan, but the Lumen clan as well. Both divine clans treasured their children above all else, guarding them with great ferocity until they reached adulthood. If a divine clan even lost one child, the entire clan grieved. In times of war, an apprentice was likely to be sent into battle the moment they could wield a weapon properly, and were then forced to learn from experience rather than a teacher. Luckily, there had been no major wars between the heavenly and infernal realms for quite some time, so in peace many new apprentices were born and had the luxury of centuries to prepare for battle.

That wasn't to say that there was complete peace between the Umbra and Lumen. There would always be animosity between the two clans, since immortals could hold a grudge like no other. The clans might not be in declared war with each other, but there were always skirmishes in between realms or between border patrols on the planes of Earth in Purgatorio. Jeanne herself had fought her first angel recently, when Maebh had finally agreed to let her accompany a border patrol to Earth. She had kicked its ass, of course. Although seeing other Umbra witches in action made Jeanne realize just how much she _still_ had to learn. The rest of the border patrol, comprised of full-fledged witches, moved so fast Jeanne could barely see them, and used an array of weapons half of which Jeanne had yet to even touch! She had so much to live up to.

Jeanne skidded to a halt next to the cluster of bushes that she had hid Vorrken's mechanical wings, a surprised Cereza smacking into her back.

"Watch it!" Jeanne snapped.

"Are you ever _not_ cranky?" Cereza huffed.

_Not according to every witch in the clan. _Jeanne suppressed a smirk. But she held her tongue as she began pushing away the branches and retrieved the flying machine.

"The hell is that?" Cereza asked in surprise.

"_Cussing isn't ladylike_." Jeanne mocked, smirking at the unamused glare the other witch sent her way.

Jeanne chuckled and strapped on the mechanism. Revving it up, a cacophony whirls and clicks sounded as the magical stones and seal arrays lit up with purple magic. Cereza stared in wonder at the contraption as Jeanne began to float about an inch or two off the ground.

"Right." Jeanne said as she did one last check to secure the straps. "Come one now."

A wary look stole over Cereza's face. "What do you mean?" She asked slowly.

"Does this thing look like a two-seater to you?" Jeanne asked rhetorically. "You need to hold onto me while I steer it. And, preferably, not fall."

Cereza stared at the bleach-blonde girl in horror for a long moment. She glanced back at the prison tower, but she knew that she did not want to go back. This was her only way out, and now that she knew that the world outside was full of magic and wonder, she had no intention of going back. Cereza slumped in defeat.

"I can't believe I'm doing this…" Cereza muttered as she stepped closer to the hovering Jeanne and wrapped her arms around Jeanne's neck, plastering her body against the other witch-apprentice. "This is complete suicide."

Jeanne snickered. "I tend to do that a lot."

Then without warning the contraption surged upwards, Jeanne guiding the mechanical wings towards the mainland were the Crescent City resided. Cereza yelped and tightened her hold around Jeanne, wrapping her legs around the other girl's hips for more security.

"Oi! Don't strangle the driver!" Jeanne growled, and Cereza realized her hold around Jeanne's neck was slightly asphyxiating.

"Sorry." She muttered, very carefully shifting her hold so that it was not centered at Jeanne's jugular.

Seconds later the two young witches were touching down at the edge of the Crescent City in the remote southern district. Jeanne's eyes shifted periodically for any movement in the shadows, carefully landing in an alleyway out of the sight from the main road.

Cereza did not bother to suppress the relieved sigh that escaped her upon their landing, eager to get off the suicidal contraption. The moment Jeanne's feet settled upon the cobblestone, Cereza leaped off.

"Land!" Cereza praised, dropping on all fours and lovingly patting the ground.

"Oh shut it, I'm not _that_ bad of a driver." Jeanne muttered as the mechanical wings folded in on themselves and she unstrapped the machine. She warily glanced around. "Now let's hurry towards the apprentice tower, before someone walks by. Keep quiet and stick to the shadows. We'll take the alleys."

To be honest, Jeanne felt that it was entirely shameful of how easy it was to sneak by their fellow Umbra as the two young witches darted from alley to alley. Perhaps when she became queen (and many feared the day) she would enact sensory and perception exercises. After all, if two baby witches could do it, so could their potential enemies.

_Look at me, already thinking like a tyrannical queen. Maebh would be proud._ Jeanne thought with a small smirk.

"Aaaand we're here!" Jeanne exclaimed as the reached the northern edge of the city, standing near a ledge that faced the apprentice tower.

Cereza felt her mouth drop open as she gazed upon the Great Palace. It was the largest building she had ever seen! Granted, she had been imprisoned her whole life, but even from the view she had seen through Cheshire, she had never come upon the Great Palace. Its spires seemed to pierce the sky, up and up and up they went. Great arches abounded, yet the structure of the palace seemed to defy all laws of physics (then again, they were a magical race, gravity held no sway here). Half of the towers Cereza could see were not even physically connected to the castle, but seemed to float in place above the main structure. The walls of the Great Palace were peppered with towering windows of colored glass, catching the rays of the setting sun and reflecting rainbows upon rainbows, colors Cereza had never seen before. Even from afar Cereza could tell that the windows extended from floor to ceiling.

"Home sweet home." Jeanne drawled, turning and walking along the ledge, but still within the shadows of the buildings. "Come one, we can reach the northern ramparts without being seen by going around the back way."

Cereza just nodded dumbly, not sure what Jeanne was talking about, but trusting in the girl's confidence. With one last look at the Great Palace, Cereza broke her gaze and trotted after the bleach blond apprentice.

The back way, as it turned out, involved floating golden disks of light which circled periodically between the various towers.

"Absolutely not." Cereza dug her heels in.

"It's easy! I practically do this in my sleep." Jeanne coaxed her as she stood on one of the floating discs of light. Which were completely see-through, by the way. Floating in circles, and not the horizontal kind either. Cereza watched with slight vertigo as Jeanne, still somehow attached to the glowing lift, became completely upside-down as the disc reached its zenith. Then the disc of light began to descend, slowly circling down. Jeanne was still effortlessly standing firmly on the flat of the lift, completely perpendicular to Cereza when the lift was halfway from the bottom of its circular movement.

"How do you stay attached to that thing without falling off?" Cereza asked her, still very much against stepping onto it. Jeanne gave her another one of those _'duh'_ looks.

"Magic." She deadpanned.

"Obviously." Cereza snapped. "But its magic that _I_ do not know how to do!"

"By the Goddess." Jeanne huffed, still attached to the glowing disc of light as it began making another vertical circle, "One can travel upon them without magic you know. It just takes a little bit of acrobatics."

"You mean jumping from floating-light-disc-glowy-thing before it upends me? Hopefully without falling into the never-ending sky?" Cereza asked sarcastically while casting a wary glance down below, where the sky reached into infinity. "Have the witches ever lost an apprentice because they fell down there?"

"Yes and I don't know." Jeanne shrugged. "They probably have, they just don't tell us. Besides, it rarely happens anyway. Us witches have the uncanny ability of never falling. Gravity holds no sway upon us, after all."

"Well I never learned all your little leaping-flying tricks!" Cereza snapped.

"And I will teach you." Jeanne promised as the lift she was standing on made her upside-down again, thought she was face-level with Cereza.

Cereza stared stubbornly at the upside-down expression of Jeanne, her eyes at level with Jeanne's chin. "Isn't there a way to freeze these things so that they make a neat little path? Preferably one that is not inverted?"

Jeanne chuckled. "Of course. But where is the fun in that? Besides, I do not know that spell. I'll make a note to look into for you though."

"Jeanne!" Cereza groaned in frustration.

Jeanne sighed and did a doubled-flip leap off of the disc of light and landed next to Cereza. "Fine, I'll carry you."

Cereza blinked. "I'm sorry, what?"

Before she could protest, Jeanne was shoving Vorrken's machine into Cereza's chest, who stuttered and unconsciously wrapped her arms around the contraption. In the same movement Jeanne swept Cereza off of her feet and into her arms.

"Whoa! Put me down!" Cereza yelped, her voice rising in pitch and surprise at finding herself being manhandled by a girl her age. How was she even strong enough to do so? Jeanne was scrawnier than her!

Jeanne gave her a wicked grin. "I may be skinny, but I'm all muscle. My witch-mother is quite the slave driver, so I'm stronger than I look."

Cereza opened her mouth to retort, but cut it off with a gasp as Jeanne leaped onto the nearest floating circle of light. From her point of view it seemed like Jeanne wasn't going to land at the right angle and slide right off the moving disc, but just as Cereza was about to warn her, a strange gravitational force descended upon them and Jeanne's feet seemed to glue themselves onto the light's surface the moment her toes touched it.

"What is this?" Cereza asked in wonder, lifting her hand and feeling a slight resistance in the air that pulled her hand downward, even though the two witches were parallel with the ground below.

"I told you, magic." Jeanne huffed as she leapt onto another floating disc, despite that is was not lined up with the one they were currently one.

Once again, when it seemed like the two of them would slide right off, the strange force took hold and held Jeanne and Cereza onto the moving light. Jeanne explained the spell distractedly as she hopped from lift to glowing lift, her eyes constantly shifting and calculating her jumps.

"Think of it as a gravity-simulating spell. With it, Umbra witches can walk up and down walls and ceilings without even feeling the normal effects of gravity. One can stand on the ceiling and still feel as if they were standing on the floor. Your blood will never rush to your head and not a hair out of place. It's like you aren't even upside-down at all!"

To emphasize this point, Jeanne paused when they reached the last disc circling the entrance to the apprentice tower, standing still on it as the disc circled upwards. Cereza found herself staring at an upside-down building; the entire world around her was inverted in fact. Yet she did not feel like she was the one standing wrong-side-up. Or upside-down. This was getting confusing.

Jeanne laughed at the faces Cereza was making. "You get used to it. Reason and logic mean nothing to magic-users. We're all a little crazy, but that's what happens when magic teaches you that nothing is impossible."

"But aren't there rules in magic too? Laws and processes?" Cereza asked her as Jeanne flipped off of the last floating lift and landed on the ledge of the entrance into the apprentice tower.

"Sure there are." Jeanne answered flippantly as they touched down on the pathway leading to the tower door. "But they only go so far. Apprentices learn the laws and theories of magic, but once you become a full-fledged witch, those rules become more like guidelines. Umbra witches are constantly discovering new magic that contradicts the old."

"I see." Cereza murmured as her wrist was once again seized by Jeanne and yanked forward unceremoniously. The world seemed to blur by as the excited Jeanne shot up the stairs of the tower, glancing around in case another apprentice saw them.

"Looks like everyone is out at training right now." Jeanne muttered as they reached the top floor. She held her hand up against the door to her room, the magic lock flaring in recognition before the door slid open. "Welcome to the penthouse!"

Cereza's eyes widened when she saw Jeanne's chambers. She wasn't surprised that Jeanne had a taste for luxury, but the sheer opulence of the room seemed overwhelming, especially for a mere apprentice.

"Are all apprentices as spoiled as you?" Cereza asked as she stepped slowly into the room, turning in a circle. The windows were large with a spacious patio looking out over the Crescent City, gilded in gold. Pure gold, not just filigree. And the ceiling was covered in frescoes. No joke, real, hand-painted frescoes. And her bed was huge! It was quadruple the size of Cereza's cot in the prison. Not to mention swathed in silks and velvet. Marble floors, a private bathroom, just as luxurious as the bedroom from what she could see through the slightly-open doorway.

"Definitely not! I'm just special." Jeanne winked. "Let's just say my witch-mother is a very important woman."

"Uh-huh…" Cereza trailed off dumbly as she poked her head into the bathroom. "Do you seriously need a tub this big?" She called over her shoulder.

Jeanne smirked. "What can I say, I like swimming!"

Cereza shook her head with an amused expression.

"But we aren't here to rave about my phenomenal interior decorating skills, although please feel free to continue praising me for the rest of your time with me."

"Narcissist." Cereza rolled her eyes.

"I never denied it!" Jeanne quipped before skipping over to her bed. Her bed which was higher than her waist. The young witch literally required a running start to jump into her bed. She locked eyes with Cereza and patted the cushions next to her.

While Cereza attempted –repeatedly –to climb onto the enormous bed, Jeanne was busy shuffling through the books she had left onto the bed from earlier that morning.

"Alright, so we have to start you at level one –obviously." Jeanne said distractedly. The moment Cereza had safely scaled the bed, she found Jeanne shoving books at her.

"Hey watch it! Those things pack a wallop!" Cereza complained as their corners poked and their bindings smacked. She was going to have bruises the next day. Cereza glanced at the titles.

_The Umbra Way: A study of Witches, Treatise of the Goddess, The Trinity of Reality, _all carefully painted in gold calligraphy. Each book was at least three inches thick and, when she leafed through it, had ridiculously small cursive. As if cursive along was hard enough to read, she would need a magnifying glass for this!

"Those are the basics." Jeanne leaned over and began pointing to each title. "_The Umbra Way_ will explain to you all the necessary beliefs, traditions, and protocols of the Umbra clan. Including ranks, which you should be sure to memorize. If you accidentally mouth off to a witch of higher rank than you, they have the right to discipline you. Violently."

At the horrified look on Cereza's face (especially funny with her glasses!) Jeanne couldn't help but laugh. "Don't worry, most of us are pretty laid back unless we are on a mission."

"Anyway," Jeanne continued and picked up _Treatise of the Goddess, _"This is a deeper explanation into our religion. Military we may be, but we are divine in nature. Our society is based on our belief in the Goddess, the mother of every witch in the Umbra. We are all sisters –_Our love lies only with the Sisterhood. Our loyalty lies only in our Queen Mother. Our hearts belong only to the Goddess. No man or demon may take precedence._ Or at least, that's the official decree."

"Last but not least, _The Trinity of Reality_." Jeanne scowled. "You have no idea how boring and tedious this book is. I hated this book. But! It is necessary to read. It explains the various levels of reality from Heaven to Earth to Hell. And everything occurs in triplets! Unnecessary amounts of triplets! Three faces of God, three planes of reality, not to mention how confusing Purgatorio and the Chaos-sphere can be!"

Cereza felt like her head was spinning.

"Oops. I talk a lot when I get excited. Was that too much for you?" Jeanne asked, leaning in until her nose was nearly touching Cereza's, bright grey-blue eyes boring holes into her head.

Cereza went cross-eyed following Jeanne's movements. "Whoa, hey! Personal space!" Cereza told Jeanne as she jerked backwards.

Jeanne laughed. "Sorry. I get a lot of that too from the other apprentices."

Cereza nodded and glanced back at the books. She ran her hands over their spines, feeling the raised lettering and soft leather. Bright, colored inks carefully painted into twining decorations upon the pages, ink as black as night and looking fresh, as if it had just dried. She could smell the calming scent of parchment and ink, feel the delicacy of the papers turning like silk beneath her hands.

"Are you okay?" Jeanne asked softly, seeing the wistful but saddened look upon Cereza's face.

"Yeah." Cereza shook off her stupor. "It's just… I've never had a book before."

Jeanne could name the amount of times that she had been shocked into silence on one hand. Well, here was shock number four.

"You've never had a book before?" Jeanne asked softly.

Cereza shook her head.

Jeanne smiled. "Well, now you have access to all of my books."

Cereza gaped at Jeanne, and then her gaze followed as Jeanne motioned towards one of the walls of her room. A wall covered in bookcases from ceiling to floor. There had to be hundreds of books in there!

"R-Really?" Cereza gasped.

"Yup!" Jeanne nodded. She waved her hand and one of her book bags floated up from the floor. "Now let's fill this with your homework."

Cereza watched in fascination as the three books Jeanne had handed her floated up and arranged themselves neatly into the book bag. Two more books detached themselves from the bookcases and floated over: _Demons and Ghouls of Inferno: An Introduction _and _Theory of the Arcane Level I_.

Jeanne sighed and turned to face Cereza as the book bag floated over to its new owner and dropped itself into Cereza's hands.

"Unfortunately, you cannot stay here." Jeanne looked pained as she said this. "You shouldn't have to return to that prison, but there is nowhere else for you to go. And if you get caught here… well, it won't be pretty."

Cereza nodded in understanding. "Don't feel bad, Jeanne. I wouldn't want you to get in trouble."

They snuck back out of the apprentice tower and through the Crescent City. When they reached the ledge facing the prison, they once again used Vorrken's mechanism to fly down to the dungeon tower.

It was the start of two legends.

* * *

**So, Jeanne is going to illegally teach magic to our dearest Cereza. Such fun!**

**Review~**


	6. Rodin, son of Pride

**So this chapter is a mix of everything. It's about the origin of Rodin, but there's also some textbook-history stuff that goes on in the middle. And then we end it with the first ever contract between witch and demon! **

**P.S. I am purposefully misspelling some words like 'olde', 'borne', and 'daemon'. These are how they would have been spelled in, say, the medieval ages. It just adds a bit of character to the writing.**

**I DON'T OWN BAYONETTA.**

* * *

He was borne in the beginning, as so many of the daemons were. Back then, they had no bodies, no physicality, no mind or independent thought. They were the essence of their being, borne from the dark thoughts which lurked in the depths of the mortal mind. They had no purpose other than the fact that they existed.

And for eons, that was what they did. Floating from realm to realm, not restricted to any one dimension. The barriers that separated the physical and spiritual world had not existed in the beginning, and had only just begun to form. They were the spirits which haunted the dwellings of primeval humans, drawn to their violence, their jealousy, their hatred, and their lust.

There was little diversity in their populace that time. They had all been borne by the same Seven of Olde: Envy, Gluttony, Lust, Anger, Greed, Sloth, and the greatest of them all, Pride. As the mortal civilizations grew and evolved did they. The line between good and evil blurred and then shattered, and the two were mixed -good men committing evil acts for an ultimately better outcome, evil men committing good acts to advance their own schemes. The sins became greater and more complex, and so did they.

At some point the daemonic spirits came to envy the physical world and tried to re-create it within their own. But theirs was a spiritual world, too unstable to be compatible with anything of permanence. Attempts to imitate the physical world ended in failure, and so they abandoned such trials, leaving corrupted and twisted reflections scattered throughout the hells. During the course of this meddling, the excess of magic began to coalesce and form a barrier between the worlds. The physical appearances of daemons could never perfectly copy the body of a mortal, their daemonic origins always manifesting in one form or another, be it horns, wings, teeth or claws. Their envy turned to hatred, their hatred to cruelty, and soon it became a habit to torment the souls of mortals.

* * *

He was borne of Pride, the greatest of the sins.

He was one of Pride's first children, a being of power and creation. He was the pleasure of war, of a warrior crushing his enemy, and the thrill of creation, of a maker of weapons and blades. He was the bond between a fighter and his weapon, the whetstone that sharpened the sword, the victory of murder. He was the glory in battle and the sting of defeat. Above all, he was the weapon that revolutionized warfare, advancing the damage and destruction caused by mortal petty. He was that first knife, the first bow, the discovery of iron and steel, and the spark of flint and gunpowder.

He was one of the first daemons to create and maintain their own physical body. So impressed was Pride that bestowed upon him a name of to call his own: Rodin. The greatest son of Pride grew strong and powerful, dominating his peers and drawing other dark ones to his side. Rodin became a chief among the daemons, and all bowed before him. Again, Pride was pleased, and so granted Rodin passage to the physical realm to which he may lead his armies. Pride's claws slashing through the magical barrier between their worlds, and Rodin entered the mortal realm to wreak havoc across the lands, leading armies of Pride's offspring in glorious pursuit of human souls.

But then, they encountered their equals.

During the invasion of a human city, the skies opened up and a burning light encased the land. Rodin and his peers screamed in agony at its touch, their human forms fading away as the light stripped them of their illusions and revealed their daemonic visage. Creatures of light swept down from the sky, bearing down upon them in white and gold and feathers. The humans were forgotten as the mortal city became a battleground between the two divine armies.

They waged war for centuries, their battleground the world between the two spirit realms, the mortals caught in the crossfire. One kingdom came to be known as Paradiso, the other Inferno. Mortal souls became the fuel to the war machines on either side, daemon and angelic, their consumed souls powering the magic of daemon and angel alike. It was a cycle of war, for each of the divine realms was equally matched, and yet though neither side could triumph, neither side deigned to retreat.

And then, a great tremor shook the divine worlds.

The Seven of Olde Inferno and the Seven of Olde Paradiso disappeared.

The two divine kingdoms were thrown into chaos without their leaders. Violence between their worlds peaked as both sides blamed the other for the mysterious absence of the Olde Ones. However, the truth was much harder to accept.

_Humans._

Mortal men had defeated their gods! The human lands had been the battleground between Paradiso and Inferno for centuries, decimating their towns, cities, and countries. Fed up with the two divine kingdoms, a group emerged that opposed both Inferno and Paradiso in order to protect what was left of human civilization, and to drive both heaven and hell from their world.

While the armies of Inferno and Paradiso were caught up battling each other, neither had noticed the small contingent of the foolishly brave humans sneaking into their upper echelons. With their minions away to war in the mortal realm, the Olde Ones were vulnerable. The Olde Ones had never been opposed or threatened before, and had never even thought to guard themselves from such insignificant creatures such as humans. Taken by surprise, there had been no warning before the human warriors had defeated and sealed them.

The armies of humans took advantage of the resulting confusion created by the void in leadership of both Paradiso and Inferno, and attacked the unsuspecting angels and daemons. The divine creatures were driven out of the physical realm and back into their spiritual worlds. Those few humans capable of magic sealed and strengthened the barriers between worlds, and for the first time in eons, the human lands were devoid of the divine.

It was a long way to recovery, however. Their populace decimated, their lands razed by fire and blood, human civilization was a mere sliver compared to their empires from before the divine warring.

The group that had defeated the Olde Ones became the protectors of the mortal realm. Splitting into two branches, they became known as the Umbra, keepers of the Infernal, and the Lumen, Keepers of the Heavenly. The first would be humanity's first line of defense against Inferno, and the latter would be the same against Paradiso, both working as a police force to keep the realms separate and contained.

* * *

For a long time, Inferno was nothing more than a pit of seething, meaningless shadows. Without the guidance of the Olde Ones, the daemons had no direction. They had never thought independently before, to be separated from their instincts and think beyond themselves. However in a world of dominance and tyranny, it was only natural that a few would rise to fill in the void left by the Olde Ones.

The Daemon Kings.

Rodin was the first, of course. The favored son of Pride, he had already begun to think independently and willfully before the fall of his creator. It was not long after the disappearance of the Olde Ones that Rodin took the mantel of Pride and dominated Inferno. There were those who opposed him, of course, daemons just as sentient and willful as he was, with the ability to command and discipline their fellows until they cowed all beneath them. And so the populace of Inferno was split into fractions, tribes and alliance drawn, chieftains and kings arising, civil conflict erupting on the between the ranks of hell.

Rodin, the eldest and most feared of all the Daemon Kings, commanded the forces that remained loyal to the memory of Pride, in addition to the clans of Manticore, Serpent, Gryffyth, Scorpion, and Hound.

For many an age, Rodin and his fellow Daemon Kings were the new world order in the realm of Inferno.

And then **she** appeared.

Slicing through his armies as if they were ants under her boots. He watched the chaos from afar, this stranger appearing in the depths of hell without fear or aversion. She fought as fiercely as any denizen of Inferno, except the winds bore her scent for miles around, and it was not divine, but mortal. Rodin's curiosity was piqued as she bested his forces, the force and complexity of her magic far greater than he had thought humans were capable of.

Eventually, when he had decided not to lose any more of his soldiers to her blades, he called them off with a mere wave of his hand. A tense hush fell across the battlefield as his daemons froze and jumped back from the strange mortal woman. With each step she took forward his daemons bowed out of the way, creating a path leading straight to their king.

Rodin stood atop a temple-like artifice, a great building with a lone spire that pierced the blood-red sky of Inferno, black clouds circling its tip as lightning the color of fire frequently split the sky. The cracks between the stones pulsed with a deep red glow; his magic that was imbued into every stone of the edifice. The female mortal came to a stop at the bottom of the roughly-hewn steps that led up to where he stood at the top of the stairs, hands clasped behind his back, feet braced apart, a hood hiding his face from her sight, save for a barely discernible glow of two red eyes.

"Come here." His voice is deep, deeper than anything she has ever heard before. It is the growl of a dragon, the rumble of thunder, the sound of mountains falling.

Rodin studies the mortal woman, this supposedly frail creature that broke into his kingdom and carved a path of flesh and bone to his throne. She hides the lower half of her face with a strip of cloth, most likely in an effort to filter the noxious fumes that filled the air of Inferno. Her eyes are feline, bright yellow with a black slitted pupil. Her hair is made up of hundreds of thin braids, pitch black strands broken by beads carved from bone that have been woven into their design. She wears crude leather armor that fits her oddly, obviously made for a man, and that she most likely stole. The only skin he can see is the upper half of her face and her bare arms above leather gloves. Her skin is ebony, black as night, interrupted only by dark pink scars and fresh cuts from her battle against his soldiers.

When she reaches the top of the stairs, she pauses before him, standing straight and ridged, with no intention of bowing to the daemon king. Her inhuman eyes regard him warily, and her grip tightens on her weapon, a staff with a long blade attached to the end. Where the blade and her staff meet there is a small ring upon which small, shamanistic trinkets jingly softly in the quiet.

"A mortal." Rodin muses. "You break into the forbidden realm of Inferno, where you risk leaving an open path for us to invade your home world, you slay my soldiers and risk not only your life but your very soul... for what?"

Rodin begins to circle the woman, reading the tension in her body language, and yet he smells no fear, only wariness. When he is behind her, she speaks.

"I have come to sign a contract, daemon."

Rodin laughs disdainfully. "More you the fool, little girl."

She spins and faces him, her feral eyes glinting as her defiant gaze clashes with his. He is amused by her audacity as she levels the blade of her staff at his neck. He does not bother to move, fully confident that he could easily crush her if he so chose to.

"You think that I do not know who you are?" She smirked. "Rodin, the greatest of the Daemon Kings, first and favored son of Pride."

Rodin did not react, although he would admit that she had surprised him. And here he had thought she was some foolhardy human magician playing with monsters she did not understand.

"And why would a little girl like you want to bind her soul to the King of Daemons?" He asked her.

Dark anger flashed across her eyes. "To defeat my enemies."

Rodin threw his head back and laughed at her. This child! What a human thing to say! Such pettiness - then again, daemons were no better. Long lived but never wise.

"Oh?" Rodin grabbed her staff, avoiding the blade, and yanked her forward. The woman gasped but did not let go in time before he had his hand wrapped around her neck. "And why should I care about your conflicts? When I could just kill you now and devour your soul anyway?"

Her hands scrabbled helplessly against his strength, his large hand easily encircling her neck. She pounded against his arm and chest, but his muscles were as hard as a rock; he felt nothing. In desperation, she reached up and caught his hood, pulling it down. She gasped.

The daemon king was easily twice as large as a normal mortal man, though she had already known this. However his face was what shocked her. He looked surprisingly human, bald-headed, golden skin, ears pierced like the tribal men from her homeland. His eyes were the only sign of his daemonic status: dark, empty eye sockets stared at her with small glowing-red orbs sunk deep into his skull, looking as if they were floating inside his head.

"Like what you see, girly?" Rodin chuckled, bending his head so that he stared straight down into her wide eyes. She would have hyperventilated if she could breathe.

Suddenly she seemed to remember that she was not a helpless damsel in distress, and narrowing her eyes, released her magic in an explosive sonic wave. The daemon king stumbled back, while his underlings were blown back from the force, some of them careening off of the edge of the temple. Rodin dropped her and she landed on her feet, quickly stepping away from him and keeping her staff between them.

The woman rubbed her neck gingerly, glaring hatefully at Rodin.

"I am Umbra!" She seethed with a rasping voice. "You will respect me!"

"Heh, one of those pathetic humans that think they can police the daemons of Inferno?" Rodin shot her a cocky grin, showing off his fanged teeth. "Don't make me laugh."

"All that is about to change, daemon." The witch said with foreboding.

Rodin paused and lifted an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"The Umbra and Lumen have split." She told him. "There is going to be a war. The Lumen have been corrupted by the angels; they no longer protect humanity from the divine, instead they have become their slaves."

"And so you would do the same?" Rodin asked her in wicked amusement. "Selling the souls of your Umbra comrades so that you might have a weapon to use against those Paradiso bastards?"

"There is no other way to oppose Paradiso. And I'll be damned if we just sit by helplessly while the heavens consume the mortal realm." The witch snarled. "Besides, if the mortal realm falls to Paradiso, then the angels with grow stronger with the human souls that they consume, and Inferno will not be able to stand against them."

Rodin could not deny this. Both angels and daemons fueled their powers with human souls, and if either kingdom won the mortal world, the other would fall. He was disturbed that he had not heard any warnings of this. He had not known that the Lumen had been brainwashed by the angels, or that the two guardian clans were preparing for a civil war. What the fuck was his spy network doing, taking a spa day? Heads were gonna roll.

"While I understand the need for a truce between Umbra and Inferno, why did you come to me?" He growled. "Did you really think that I, a daemon king, would lower myself to a soul-bind with a mere human?"

"The clans are not so human anymore." The witch snapped back. "We have spent too many generations crossing between the realms. The magic that we use has fused with our bodies and souls, changing us. We are more than human now, not quite so mortal anymore..." She paused, hesitating, then said, "We have stopped dying."

Rodin felt his eyes widen. Immortality? Upon these once-humans? How was that possible? It had been far too long since he had paid any attention to what was happening in the mortal realm.

"Now that _is_ interesting..." Rodin mused aloud. He chuckled at the irony. "That would make your people divine now, eh? Just like the daemons and angels that you fought so hard against. You're one of us now."

She scowled. "Regardless, I came to you because you control Inferno. There may be other daemon kings, but it is your choice that will determine theirs. Everyone knows that you are the most powerful daemon in existence."

"Flattery will get you nowhere, little witch." He teased darkly, his amusement rising as her scowl deepened.

"My name is Hekate, you oaf!" She huffed.

"_You_ are Hekate?" Rodin laughed. "The one who is supposed to be the leader of the Umbra? Why, you're just a little slip of a thing!"

Rodin was just enjoying this witch way too much. He could read every thought in her head just by the expressions that crossed her face. Her temper was explosive as explosive as her magic, crossing her arms and glowering at him.

"Excuse me?" She snarled. "I'll have you know that I am quite tall for a human woman! You're the giant here!"

"And aren't you supposed to be all cool and composed?" Rodin continued to prod the witch. "My spies told me that you were calculating and ruthless. All I'm witnessing is a little girl playing with monsters she can't possibly comprehend."

He was sure steam would come out of her ears from the intensity of her fuming. "Why! Why you-!" She shrieked between her clenched teeth. "You are the most impossible, self-centered, arrogant prick I have ever had the displeasure of meeting you-"

"Now now, if you keep flattering me like you have been I might think you were making a move on me." Rodin teased with a smirk curling at his lips.

"You are a complete and utter asshole!" She threw her hands in the air, Rodin ducking out of the way as she carelessly waved her staff around in her anger.

"Yeah, yeah, you ain't the first to call me that lady. Sheesh, and I'm gonna be stuck with _you_ for eternity?" The daemon king rolled his eyes dramatically.

The witch froze. "Wait -what?" She gaped at him. "Did you - did you just agree to the contract?"

Rodin shrugged. "Actually I would have accepted it the moment I realized the imminent threat of Paradiso overpowering Inferno..." He chuckled. "But I just really enjoy riling you up."

She looked like she was going to explode. "YOU BASTARD!" She screamed and pulled at her hair. "You have got to be the most _infuriating_ piece of shit- "

Rodin tuned her out and held out his hand, summoning his contract into his palm. "You gonna sign this contract or what?"

She whacked him with her staff.

* * *

Signing the a daemon contract varied between daemons, however for Rodin it involved blood and hair. The pair had entered his temple and walked into his throne room. Passing that without a glance, Rodin had led the witch up into the spire, to one of his private sitting rooms where he kept many of his scrolls and treaties.

"What the fuck?" Hekate exclaimed, standing in the middle of the room and pacing as she read the terms of their contract. "You want me to sign this contract using my blood as ink? Do you have any idea how cliche that sounds?"

He seriously considered just killing her. Multiple times. Interacting with him seemed to make her not only talkative, but argumentative as well. Rodin rolled his eyes for the umpteenth time.

"Magic is much stronger when it is imbued with bodily materials." Rodin sighed. "Blood and hair especially."

"Whoa, wait, what about my hair?" Hekate interrupted, startled. She squinted at the contract and began to scan for any mention of hair sacrifices.

Rodin collapsed into a rather luxurious arm chair, rubbing his face in exasperation. Was this seriously the leader of the Umbra? The same people that had kept Inferno under lock and key for centuries? The only intimidating thing about this witch was her ability to sass people to death.

"Hair is the second-best conduit for magic from the body." Rodin muttered.

"You only need a strand, right?" Hekate asked hopefully, her hand unconsciously reaching to touch her braids protectively.

He answered her with a deadpan stare.

"How much hair do you fucking need?!" She screeched.

Rodin winced and covered his ears. "Angel's flaming arse woman! Did you trade vocal chords with a harpy?"

Her glare intensified. "Oh, do you really wanna go there right now?"

_No wonder the Lumen let the witches guard Inferno. They could nag us to the end of eternity._ Rodin glared at Hekate. "Look here, little witch. When you sign a contract with a daemon, you must pay for that power. The more powerful your daemon contractor is, the higher the price." Rodin gestured towards himself. "I am the King of Inferno. Did you really think the price would not be steep? You're lucky I ain't asking for your first-borne son or some shit."

Hekate scoffed. "Like I would ever torture myself with some mewling whelp."

"Nonetheless," Rodin informed her, "You are binding your soul to the Daemon King. Your price is not just upfront either. For the rest of your life, you're gonna be paying tributes to me. Preferably in the form of crying angels."

Hekate rolled her eyes and finished reading the contract. It was... disturbing; the thought of being bound to this daemon for the rest of her existence. It was a greater commitment than the human concepts of marriage. She would be mixing her blood with his, allowing him to taste her flesh, and sacrificing her hair to him. Giving her hair to the daemon would create a physical connection between them. Her precious hair! Hekate fingered her braids, their heavy weight familiar in her hands, bone trinkets clicking together when she moved. She would miss that. She couldn't even imagine what she would look like without them.

"Just sign the contract, will ya?" Rodin drawled.

She shot a glare at his impatience. "Seriously? We're both immortal, we literally have all the time in the world."

"I just want to escape your nagging." Rodin muttered.

She was going to be stuck to this guy forever! Even when she died, her soul was going to be his to claim! Ugh, the things she did for the good of the Umbra.

"Fine." Hekate muttered, pulling a dagger from her hip and slicing open her palm. Rodin summoned a quill into his hand and passed it to her. She accepted it and dipped it into the blood that welled up on her palm, signing her name across the blank space at the bottom of the contract.

Rodin did the same, cutting open his palm and signing the contract with his pitch-black colored blood. When both of their names were written on the contract, Rodin and Hekate joined their palms, exchanging blood. She could feel his daemonic taint when it entered her body, jolting as it raced up her arm like liquid fire. Hekate grit her teeth at the painful sensation as it spread throughout her body, down to the tips of her toes. Rodin, on the other hand, seemed quite unaffected.

_Lucky bastard. _She thought as they finally separated their hands.

Rodin gave her an animalistic grin, sharpened fangs poking into his lips as he did, the red glow of his eyes brightening until they were a blood crimson. An evil chuckle escaped him, lifting his sliced hand up and licking up the black blood. The cut visibly healed itself.

Hekate stared down at her hand in amazement as the gravity of what she had done finally came crashing down upon her. Her upturned palm was still oozing blood, droplets of deep crimson sliding down her arm.

_It is done_. Doubt crept into her mind, though far too late. Had she done the right thing? Would her swordsisters understand? Most importantly - would it be enough to stop Paradiso from destroying their world?

She was shocked out of her reverie as the daemon king grabbed her bleeding hand and lifted it to his mouth, his inhuman tongue slipping out to lap at her blood. She jumped at its touch, but his grip was too strong for her to break away. He even licked up the droplets of blood that trailed down her forearm. As her surprise faded she realized that the slice she had made on her hand had healed due to his... um, ministrations.

When he lifted his head, Hekate realized just how intimidating the daemon king was, standing so close and towering over her, his head bowed over hers, making her crane her neck all the way back to meet his gaze. The hollowed sockets of his eyes glowed bright red with satisfaction.

_"Your soul is mine now, little witch."_

* * *

**In regards to exchanging blood and whatnot: DON'T TRY THIS AT HOME KIDS! That's how you get STD's! And you DIE! (Mean Girls reference haha)**

**So I know that Hekate is not a character in the Bayonetta games, but I figured I'd merge a bit of mythology with the history of the Nintendo-verse. Anything that pertains to female magic and witchcraft is fair game.**

**I bet Rodin's backstory is nothing like what any of you thought it would be haha! I'll admit, this chapter just sort of wrote itself. The first third of this chapter was planned, and the rest of this chapter just sorta... appeared.**

**So um, was that sexual tension? Like what? Fingers what are you typing!? Well Rodin _IS_ a demon, so I figured he would be quite indulgent in his lust, lacking morals and all.**

**Please leave a Review!**

**~Lilithia**


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